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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24952675">Roommates</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luke_8814/pseuds/Luke_8814'>Luke_8814</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>All New X-Men (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, X-Men (Comicverse)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>All New X-Men, Angel Wings, Angst, Awkward Crush, Best Friends, Bird/Human Hybrids, Blonde men, Blue Balls, Blue Eyes, Boarding School, Body Hair, Boxer Briefs, Boxer Shorts, Boxers, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Caught, Cologne, Dorms, Dry Humping, Erotic Feathers, Fanart, Feather pulling, Feathers &amp; Featherplay, First Crush, Gay Male Character, High School, Hungover, Ice Powers, M/M, Male Friendship, Male Homosexuality, Male Protagonist, Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Morning Wood, POV Male Character, Penis Measuring, Penis Size, Penises, Puberty, Pubic Hair, Roommates, Scents &amp; Smells, Secret Crush, Shorts (Clothing), Snow and Ice, Teen Angst, Teen Crush, Teen Romance, Teenagers, Time Travel, Towels, Underage Masturbation, Underwear, Voyeurism, X-Men Inspired, X-Men References, blond guys, blond men, blonde guys - Freeform, blonde hair, blonde pubes, circumcised penis, cum, happy trail, jerking off, older version of self, semen - Freeform, younger boy / older boy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:14:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,668</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24952675</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luke_8814/pseuds/Luke_8814</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Little Bobby sees Little Warren naked for the first time. Little Warren is hungover from the night before.</p><p>Young All New Bobby and Warren are roommates while they're stuck in the future. Bobby expounds on his early sexuality and comments on his present via his inner monologue as he's starting to realize that maybe he has feelings for Warren, possibly. It's all a jumble of hormones and emotions and time displacement stress. Bobby is 15, Warren is 17.<br/><br/>This takes place not long after Uncanny #600<br/>This also included as the first chapter of A Question of Lust</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bobby Drake/Warren Worthington III</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Roommates</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/639346">Dorm Life</a> by Solotouch Archive.
        </li>

    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>Robert "Bobby" Drake - 15</p><p>I was 12 ½ when I jerked off for the first time. Sexual maturity began, for me at least, frustratingly slow and I still looked like I was 9. I’d been getting boners for a while and I’d finally started to grow some pubes but you can’t, as I found out, tell strangers that when they get your age wrong by a few years. Playing with my frequently engorged schlong had become my secret favorite pastime and top hours were after school before my mom came home. That’s when it happened. One day I was yanking it like a lawnmower-pull when I felt a surging feeling coming from my balls working its way up my boner. My dick head was pinched in-between my thumb and my forefinger and I fully expected to ride out the escalating throb but then I had an ‘<em>Oh-S.h.i.t…!</em>’' moment. It was rapidly dawning on me that this was something I didn’t have control over. My dick was turning into a volcano and eruption was imminent. I held on to it with a death grip like it was going to come flying off as clear fluid ran out its tip and everything began to spin. It twitched like it was possessed and I felt a contraction under my balls and white fluid sprayed out and splattered the wall in front of me. Another contraction hit and more cum shot out in force. The feeling and intensity of all this took my breath away and I had to grab onto my bed.  My body wasn’t done yet as the force behind my sack that was causing this now began to pulsate in rhythm and even more jizz escaped from my penis. Now it was flowing out under low pressure and going everywhere. I wanted it to stop, but, at the same time, I wanted it to continue because it felt so good. Finally, there was another contraction that almost hurt and it forced a final good dribble out. I collapsed back, partly in panic, partly in relief that it was over, but mostly just laid out by what I would discover was my first orgasm. I assumed I’d either broken something in there or discovered a new previously unknown miracle of the human body. Then I did a quick internet search and basically had the sex talk with Google that my parents had been neglecting. I also discovered pornography, but that’s another story.</p><p>That was 3 years ago now and I’m honestly not sure if a day’s gone by since that I haven’t jerked off. Apparently mutating during puberty fast-tracks a guy’s sexual maturity because even though my face now looks 13, still years behind, my body certainly doesn’t look like a little boy’s anymore. The hair came first, a real bush and under my armpits; a tiny amount has started to grow, a few months ago, beyond my crotch and up towards my stomach. In the last year I’ve even started to get some patchy areas on my chin and I’ve begun shaving, but only like once a month, and sometimes less. My voice dropped a few octaves, and I grew 5 inches. I started to fill out in my figure. I’m still too little, I think, but since I was recruited to the team, and taught how to actually workout right, I’ve put on some serious muscle. My hands and feet have also gotten a lot bigger, not like Hank bigger, but normal and manly like. Then there’s my dick and my balls; both have gotten bigger too. Not as big as I’d like, but way bigger than back then. I’m 6 inches when I’m hard – Yes, I measure. I also know that 6 inches is perfectly average, but who the F wants to be just ‘average?’ especially when you know that you’re basically growing up to be a badass superhero! I know this because I’m actually living in my future right now as the present. It’s a total mind-fuck, I know. The grownup version of me is here and he’s kinda more dork-ass than badass, but he cool. He’s sorta become like a brother but not really, but still kinda. Sometimes we have stupid fun together and it’s like he’s my best friend, but then other times it’s like we’re just ‘us’ and we’re in lockstep and we actually are the same person. Other times I can’t stand him and he’s just so unbelievably dorky and irritating. It’s all very complicated and we’re working through some stuff.</p><p>Bobby Drake - 15<br/>
</p><p>&lt;<a href="https://ibb.co/1R759qN"></a>" /&gt;<br/>
</p><p>He’s gay too. We’re gay, I guess I should clarify; or is it just ‘I’m’ gay, since we’re the same person? For some reason, being here in the future changed things for me and after Jean pulled it out it just wasn’t going back in. That didn’t happen for him. His Jean is dead but I think she must have always known since mine did; she just never ever said it out loud. I wonder, sometimes, why that was. Everybody says something happened and she got really powerful, like crazy-town powerful; then ‘stuff went down,’ so maybe she just didn’t get around to saying it. Funny thing, phrase ‘and then stuff went down’ should be at the end of every sentence involving the X-Men: went to a party – ‘and then stuff went down,’ Went out shopping – ‘and then stuff went down,’ family came to visit – ‘and then stuff went down,’ Stepped outside – ‘and then stuff went down.’ Speaking of crazy-powerful, I’m real potent apparently. He, Old-Me, says so but that didn’t really ever start trying to level up until a few years ago… ‘stuff had gone down’… and he had to dig deep to heal himself. Now he can do all kinds of insane stuff and when he’s ice he’s not even human anymore but says he won’t show me <span class="u">everything</span> because, I suspect, he thinks it will freak me out. My powers have gotten a lot better since we came here and he’s actually taught me a lot of control. I’m pretty comfortable with where my level is right now. I still flare up too cold sometimes so I don’t think I want them to grow anymore till I’m older and ready; so I’m not anywhere near his level yet. He’s probably right that seeing some of his ‘executive level’ stuff might freak me out. I have a tendency to get lost in my own head sometimes.</p><p>He’s like 30. I did the math and I even tried to finagle presents for all the birthdays I’ve missed but no one would bite. I had a long talk with him about how since we’re the same person, I’m technically over 21 here he should let me have alcohol but he wasn’t having that, and now he mocks me about it. I’ve subscribed to porn sites using his social security number to get even though. For 30 something, he looks like he’s way younger, just like I do, so I guess I’ll never shake that. People say it’s the effects of the ice. I’ve seen him shirtless, not creping or anything like that I swear, and he’s pretty jacked, compared to me, which is cool. Still no chest hair though, which is disappointing; same with the facial hair. I didn’t ask but I can tell it just doesn’t grow, and since we’re on the subject of growing and body changes there’s downstairs to consider. We’re going back to that because this is my train of thought. My body looks good now for 15 but, as mentioned, the D could be bigger, not gay porn bigger just maybe like another inch. I haven’t asked him when, or if, we get bigger because that’s pretty much the same question as “how big is your dick.”  That would be weird, wouldn’t it? Weird, yes; but <em>Toooo weird</em>? Mabey if I just handed him a questionnaire and was like “Hank needs to know for a boring science project he’s doing.” “Everybody has to give this to their counterpart.” “It isn’t weird or anything.” “It’s not like I want to know…” We peed at the same urinals one time, together without a divider; etiquette was broken. He said he really had to go, and Mr. Wolverine was in the only stall. He joked “don’t like at our dick,” when he was unzipping and I was mortified. I couldn’t even go and I just looked straight ahead even after he’d finished. Then, as I was still trying to go, Mr. Wolverine comes out and is drying his hands and says “you guys compare?” before he walks out and I almost melted myself. I had to avoid Old-Me for a week after that.</p><p>Old-Me has a whole apartment here at the school but it’s a NYC apartment, so it’s basically a single room. He went to UCLA and lived there, but he says besides that he’s pretty much always crashed at X housing. We’re in the dorms here, Scott, Jean, Hank and me and Warren. As dorm rooms go, apparently we got the best ones. Ours, I’m not sure how we got them. Maybe Scott got all serious and thought about it for way too long and then barged into some serious meeting and demanded we get better rooms. Its possible Jean made them do it… but hopefully not. They could have just wanted to give Warren the biggest one for his wingspace and to make up for his not wanting to be here; then decided they couldn’t just give the best to him so all went in them. In the student housing tower, Angel’s and mine is the largest on our floor. It’s a corner room that’s L-shaped room with two twin beds on either end of the long side. There are twin built-in wardrobes on both sides that match the wood floors and we have our own bathroom so we don’t have to use the one down the hall. Two desks were meant to fill the short side of the L, but Warren moved one out and said that the short end is on his side of the room and now he calls it his ‘sitting area.’</p><p>" /&gt;</p><p>Bobby and Warren's Dorm</p><p>Warren and I have shared a room before, briefly when the mansion was damaged but nothing this close-quartered or long-term. This hasn’t been a problem tough. He says that he basically grew up at boarding schools so he can live wherever. I know that isn’t true. He’s really very territorial, like an aggressive bird, hence the ‘sitting area’ thing, and he also really values his privacy and can be a little secretive. He knows I respect that more than Scott or Hank would even though he’d never admit it. I, on the other hand, can actually live with anyone and long as they don’t nag me to clean, or put away clothes, or not eat in bed, which Warren never does so long as it all stays on kept to side. We know each other’s likes and dislikes better than the other guys do, and we can both put up with one another’s weird behaviors and annoying oddities. He’s moody and quick to brood he he’ll do the whole silent treatment sometimes. I get upset a lot and sometimes have small fits of irritation and unpleasantness that some people, Jean and Scott and Hank and Kitty Pryde, rudely refer to as ‘tantrums.”  Sometimes I make the room cold and occasionally, not often, but sometimes, I’ll ice it up while I’m sleeping. We covered that I’m messy, and how I don’t do laundry and how I eat in bed, but I also use my roommate’s, in this case Warren’s, but I’m going to say ‘roommate’s’ Ipad to watch porn and deny it when asked.</p><p>Warren goes to bed early and can’t sleep with any type of light being on no matter how small it is because of his weird bird-body. He says his eyes won’t adjust in darkness if they see any light at all. He says that sleep, for birds, involves periods of repeated eye opening and closure, like little blinks and peeks, and apparently he’ll do the same thing during sleep if it isn’t dark enough. He actually has a lot of weird little peculiarities. He likes everything around him to be neat and he’ll get all flustered if there’s any clutter or his things are out of place. He pretends it’s because he’s OCD, but in reality it’s actually the bird thing again. His eyes move around and focus independently of each other and are super vigilant. They see everything, and especially zoom on stuff that’s super small. I guess they’re wired to spot predators, and seeds… If there’s junk lying about or if things aren’t in their place he’ll notice and it literally drives him crazy. We also can’t have shiny things in the room because he’ll ‘bird-out’ on them and get lost in the shimmer.* I’ve seriously caught him in the room holding up his keys to the light and just staring at them. He also has these little mini-molts fairly frequently where he’ll drop down feathers and leave small piles and little trails of them wherever he goes or sits. He’s super self-conscious and embarrassed by this so we don’t talk about it; I pretend like I’m too lazy to notice and he tries to clean them up when I’m not looking. He also has this oil gland thing in his back between his wings that keeps them soft and waterproof and sometimes it will leave stains on his sheets and pillows.* There’s a permanent mark on his chair in the ‘sitting area’ from it. We don’t talk about that either. Also, he spends a lot of time in the bathroom grooming and fussing around with his feathers which he says it’s normal. He tries to clean up after himself but I always find random feathers in there, and not just little ones either. I guess it goes without saying that he has body issues and I think he called himself Angel to intentionally disassociate from the whole bird-man issue.</p><p>Warren Worthington III - 17<br/>
</p><p>" /&gt;</p><p>All that bird stuff, plus the moodiness and secrecy, sounds kinda bad when you put it all out there like that but he’s actually a really good guy to live with. Our class schedules are almost the same though mine allow me to sleep in an extra hour that he’s around for. We actually spend more time together in training than we do in the dorm at the same time. When we are in there together, it’s truly not bad. I don’t make jokes or pester him or play pranks like when we’re all together. He broods less, and he drops entirely the arrogance act that he can put on sometimes. He’s still real upset about being here, but he doesn’t complain or gripe about it to me at home like he does in public. I also don’t think anybody else knows about all the bird stuff, and I’d never say anything and he knows that. We kinda have a connection when it comes to stuff like that. I mentioned that I tend to make the place cold and he has such weird physiology that his sensitivity to sudden temperature changes is next to zero and he has a much different tolerance for low temperatures than normal people. It’s not uncomfortable for him at all to be half-undressed in 35 degree weather even though he has more clothes and shoes than Jean does.</p><p>For a guy who’s isn’t ever under-dressed for any anything, he’s oddly indifferent in his private wardrobe choices. It’s usually just the same a few gym shorts and a pair of expensive pajama pants. He never wears a shirt; and honestly I complain about that and sometimes look forward to coming home to see it. His dislike for shirts is twofold, I think, and both are fairly understandable. First, he looks amazing topless and I’d have no problem admitting that out loud even if I was still in the closet. He doesn’t really have to work out because of his bizarre metabolism, another bird thing, and the mutated muscles in his back that let him fly pull on the normal muscles in the front so that his pecs and the rest are just naturally huge and pop like they do all on their own. Lucky bastard! The other isn’t so lucky. It actually takes him a really long time to get properly into-and-out-of most shirts and jackets because of the wings. He takes forever-and-a-half to get dressed even though all his good clothes are customized to fit around and have openings for them. He acts like it’s a prep school habit that he can’t drop or pretends it’s just him being a vain diva-like pretty boy. It’s not. Seeing him dress is rough and even though his close are altered to fit, they still have to go on first and getting all those little buttons and zippers done up can be really difficult for him since it’s hard to reach back there.  I’ve never said it, and I don’t think it either because of the telepaths, but it’s almost like a handicap for him. He’d be super pissed and real hurt if he ever found out I think that.  </p><p>If he’s not wearing his favorite shorts or his comfy pants then it’s no pants, just Boxers; boxer-shorts, not boxer brief ‘boxers,’ or trunks or anything like that. It’s like old-school 90’s boxer-shorts boxers, old man boxer-shorts, although there’s nothing about seeing him in just them that would make a person think ‘old man.’ Scott wears them too, but it’s not the same thing, plus I’m not rooming with him. Warren says they’re ‘comfortable,’ but what he really means is ‘they let my dick swing around like I’m pretending to be an elephant.’ I’m not complaining but a lot of times, especially early mornings when he stumbles out of bed for a leak, it’s like Dumbo is on parade.  He acts like “nothing to see here’ but he knows he’s well endowed, and I know that he knows that I know that he knows that he is. Then there are the times when he’s being weird about his wings, like he gets sometimes – remember he’s moody, and sits facing me to keep them at back. He might as well be holding a sign that says ‘Look at my balls!’ while blowing an air-horn.  Despite all this I’ve never seen him naked, or even had a peek at it accidentally or ‘otherwise.’ Then it happened.</p><p>2 days ago was Saturday. Normally during the week he gets up and out way before I do but on Saturdays we usually both sleep in, especially since nobody here seems to like to train on Saturdays, which is just fine with me. Ordinarily, Warren will get up first and head into the bathroom, swinging like a pachyderm and shower before I even come to. Friday night he’d actually come in much later than normal, and Saturday he slept way late. When I woke up, and was just lying there dozing in and out under a myriad covers, I tend to bury myself under layers of them when I’m not alone to insulate against my chill during the night, and I heard his feathers ruffle as he moved around in bed. I slowly opened my eyes and started to peek from the sheets but the bright morning light flashed in and I retreated back into the darkness under the covers. In time I drifted back to sleep again but after an unknown time, I faded back in to the sound of more ruffling feathers. I opened my eyes again and peek beyond the covers and this time let them focus in the sunlight. I could plainly see Warren slouched asleep at the corner of his bed with one foot dangling off the edge and he looked half dead. His other leg was bent at the knee and under him. He was lying in a strange position, sort of lounging on, and supported by, his wings while also being partially snuggled up inside one of them. It was a weird position that I knew he would never normally get into, let alone fall asleep in.</p><p>We’ve covered the whole light situation – now adding to his list of peculiarities, he only sleeps in 2 positions. A: Lying on his back with his wings spread so he’s not laying on them and with the edges curled onto his arms and the secondary and primary feathers pulled neatly next to his legs. B: Laying on his stomach with them closed and tightly folded behind lying flat on his back and the big feathers running down his legs. This pose was neither of those. It was one of those postures that only a really drunk person would get themselves into and could never even imagine doing so while sober. It was combination yoga pose and torture position, and I knew he was going to be sore from it. He started to rouse and reached his arms backwards slightly then settled back still again propped in this stupefied pose. I pictured him laying an egg and then nesting on it like this. I made a mental note to tease him without mercy about this at a later date and my hand slithered out from my bed linen fortress and reached for my phone. I had grand plans to memorialize this moment, when he stirred again and yawned and I instinctively jerked my hand back to safety under the covers.<br/>
<br/>
I scanned the horizon again, this time lowering the sheet past my nose and a sitting up a bit. The room was bright with sun. Both of the window shades were opened. Warren was near naked; on display wearing a pair of short cotton oxford-blue and white gingham checkered boxers with a large white flat-fronted waistband that had a solid blue rectangle stitched in right over the fly. Above this rectangle, coming directly out from under the boxers, was a happy trail of yellow hair running up his lower stomach to his navel. Now, as far as I knew, all the hairs on his body were the same shade of pineapple-blonde as those on his head and his eyebrows. This was confirmation of that fact; indeed <span class="u">all</span> his body hair was pineapple-blonde. His arms were raised in this post- bacchanal, semi-angelic yet slightly pornographic, pose and he was displaying matching armpit hairs. Normally the rest of his bodily hairs were so light that they were basically invisible under most light.  This morning however, the beams of light were hitting him just right so that each tiny yellow hair captured the rays and shimmered with a golden luster in the morning sun. I could see all of them lightly running across his lower arms, on his thighs, and down his legs and I experienced a totally unexpected surge in my underwear that gave me a firm erection.  It was as though heaven itself had opened up and sent this vision of my own smutty over eroticized gay angel; St. Warren III, patron saint of lazy horny sunrises and morning wood. This was pretty much my closest friend, and while I’d always thought he was objectively hot, and non-so-guiltily enjoyed his eye candy, I’d never been actually attracted to him. This morning it was different, and for the first time I was genuinely and deeply aroused by looking at him. Under my mountain of covers, my hand pawed at the erection that had built in my boxer briefs. I was about to say 3 Hail-Warrens and take myself to church when he let out a hoarse throated cough and then slumped and partial rolled over, freeing a wing which stretched itself out across the bed with its feather tips hanging off one side like it was just another sleepy appendage, which I suppose it was.</p><p>The roll had raised the circus tent on the ‘elephant’ in the room, and I could see he had prominent and more noticeable than normal morning wood. It wasn’t an erection but it was about 30 degrees too angled to be rated PG-13 and it certainly wasn’t soft by any means. It was pointing up and slightly off center and was pressed against his leg stretching the fabric of his underwear and distressing the snugly buttoned fly as it yearned to escape imprisonment beneath the thin cotton of the shorts. He was obviously awake by now but continued to lay there stupefied for a couple of minutes before he opened his eyes and stretched again, this time arching his back. He rubbed his eyes with clenched fists and extending both arms high into the air, while pulling his feet and knees up before bringing his arms back down and resting his hands on his kneecaps. This action had twin results. The stretch caused his abdomen to extend and his happy trail to spring with it pulling far longer and curly hairs of the same color up out of his shorts and above the white waistband. The leg contraction caused his turgid cock to fall down between his legs and bounce into the ballooning opening of in his underwear.  In that moment his fully thickened, but not yet hard, penis flopped out from the leg of his boxers and I glimpsed it fully on display as time slowed and the opening from 2001 played in my head. It was long, much longer than mine, and thick; circumcised with a big over-sized round helmet. My jaw dropped wide open and my mouth watered. My brown eyes zoomed in and I almost released by load.</p>
<hr/><p>I slip into a dreamscape, my hand on the rod in my crotch:</p><p>St. Warren III and I are seated next to one another in heaven while ‘Put it in my Mouth’ plays in the background.</p><p>This isn't Catholic heaven.</p><p>It's gay heaven and we aren't seated on chairs but naked men.</p><p>Glitter that's the same color as Warren's hair floats in the air.</p><p>Warren is shirtless as usual. He turns to me:</p><p>
  <em>“Would you like to touch my big dick?”</em>
</p><p>It springs magically out of his sparkly short shorts:</p><p>
  <em>“Only if you insist”</em>
</p><p>I reply back polity: </p><p>
  <em>"Enjoy playing with it!"</em>
</p><p>Warren says:</p><p>
  <em>"I will !!"</em>
</p><p>I reply giddily:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“This is for all the birthdays you’ve missed!”</em>
</p><p>Another Warren standing next to me says.</p><p>He holds out a cake with his dick on it:</p><p>
  <em>“I love your facial hair!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Original Warren says as he holds his dick out for me to admire:</p><p>   - I have a large mustache and sideburns in gay heaven.</p><p>
  <em>“Please make sure your hand isn’t too warm on my dick!”</em>
</p><p>Original Warren says:</p><p>
  <em>“I like it cold!”</em>
</p><p>He says:</p><p>
  <em>“You’re very handsome and just as hot as I am,”</em>
</p><p>He adds:</p><p>
  <em>“And you don’t look too young at all”</em>
</p><p>He whispers into my ear:</p><p>   - I look older and am 4 inches taller in gay heaven.</p><p>...</p><p>Original Warren's dick is in my mouth now.</p><p>Other Warren’s dick is slapping me in the face:</p><p>
  <em>“Bobby… you’re soooo cold!”</em>
</p><p>Original Warren whos dick I'm sucking says:</p><p>
  <em>“Make it colder...” !!! “Colder Bobby!”</em>
</p><p>Both Warrens are saying:</p><p>...</p><p>   - Old-Me is there here now.</p><p>   - He's filming us with one of those ancient old camcorders:</p><p>
  <em>“Make it colder!”</em>
</p><p>Other Warren keeps saying:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Pull my feathers!”</em>
</p><p>Original Warren is demanding:</p><p>...</p><p>A third Warren is kneeling between my legs.</p><p>He's pulling at the button fastening my shorts:</p><p>“<em>Blow your cold snow on my face!”</em></p><p>Third Warren says:</p><p>...</p><p>    - Old-Me has a frighteningly huge boner poking up through his sorts now.</p><p>...</p><p>He touches it and he starts to ice up.</p><p>...</p><p>   - The fantasy starts to take a disturbingly weird and unspeakably dirty turn...  </p>
<hr/><p>Meanwhile, real world Warren was muttering:</p><p>“Too much sun!” … “Too much sun!”  … “Fuck!”</p><p>I came back, little light headed, and with an enormous wet spot in my boxer briefs. He’d gotten out of bed and was fumbling with the shades. He’s already pulled the one over his bed and was apparently struggling with the one in the ‘sitting area.’ I heard a muffled, “mother fucker!” before he got it and shadow fell. He emerged from the ‘sitting area’ and walked around the bed. His wings trailed behind him; all feathers ruffled and out of place. The left wing looked heavy and was held low. The right one was raised a little higher and was partially extended so that the primary feather tips were trailing the wall as if giving him balance, the same way a normal person would do with their hand. I wondered, for the first time, how much he’d actually drank last night. He came to his wardrobe against the near wall and put his left hand up to its face. He leaned heavily inward as though the effort expended with the window shade had drained what little strength he had and that remaining upright and not collapsing back onto the darkened bed was taxing his last reserve. He had a secret textbook on avian biology and anatomy that he tried to keep hidden on his little book shelf in the ‘sitting area’ that I’d snooped through. He’d made various little scribbles and notes on some of the wing diagrams and I’d read that part and knew the proper names for his parts. His Patagiums, the long and heavily-muscled short-feathered limbs that grew from the back of his shoulders, and formed the upper boundary of his under-wing covert feathers, were low and tired and looked sore. Ordinarily they stood above his head when he was upright. The wrists at their ends which bent down and supported his long secondary flight feathers and his enormous primaries were unusually limp and his big feather tips and edges swept the floor.</p><p>After about a minute, he appeared to rally and he opened the wardrobe and began rustling through some drawers. His shorts were stuck in the crack of his ass. He must have assumed I was either asleep of gone entirely, as piled up sheets entirely covered my bed. He popped a minor handful of pills and swallowed dry. Wings still limp, he pulled out a linen-white towel and a fresh pair of underwear that were moss-green and solid, with little Tuscan-gold fleur de lis all over. Mechanically, he proceeded to drop the boxers he was wearing around his ankles. He grabbed his now free dick with his right hand and tugged on it a few seconds before scratching his balls. I fought the urge to sit up straight in bed just gawk since he was now standing mere yards away completely naked; his fat cock at full length and girth. He was in profile and I had a clear view of everything and I can say with certainty that the David statue looks short, chubby, homely, and micro-dicked compared to strapping young Mr. Worthington III. The sun-rays that got through now shaded windows partially illuminated his big round ass where it peeked out between his wings and I could see the tiny forest of sun colored hairs shimmering up and down his butt crack. His dick was about 7 inches long and the skin where his foreskin used to be was crumpled up into a small thin wrinkly sleeve just beyond the base of his head. The whole shaft descended out of a thick bush of curly lemon-yellow hair. I was shocked equally by the truths that he wasn’t a manscaped, and that he simply had so much pubic hair. Warren was a guy who’s look was so put together and screamed, in an inside-voiced, old-moneyed, well-mannered yet pompous, and properly enunciated way, <em>‘I’m well bred, well-groomed and a future one-per-center.’</em> It seemed somehow deeply out of character for his pubes not to be groomed and I was genuinely concerned that he might not be taking care of himself here in our future being so unhappy. He tugged on himself a couple more times automatically before opening the towel to wrap around his waist; his wings elevated as he pulled it around his backside. Then he turned around and walked towards the bathroom and I could see a nice lump where his heavy cock was buried under the towel.</p><p>I was left breathing heavy and flustered still mostly buried inside my bunker of bed sheets. The images of his naked body, his ass, his blonde pubes, and his heavy cock were all soldered into my mind. I resisted the urge to masturbate for a full 30 minutes as my dick slowly deflated until he came back out from our shared bathroom. He was damp and looked awake and more refreshed. His wings were more solid and more erect and the feathers were noticeably back in place and smoothed. He strode across the room wearing his damp towel low on his hips revealing yet more curly lemon-yellow nether hair. He stopped at his wardrobe where he removed it and began drying his wet bicycle-yellow hair. His dick, no longer wood, jiggled with his body movements. I pondered weather might have jerk it in the shower, I’d never actually thought about him jerking off before, and decided that given his rough shape he probably hadn’t. I examined his softie; it wasn’t much bigger than mine, in length or girth. I’m a shower. His head was a lot smaller than it had been when he was swinging chubbed and weighty, and it was much less round and pointier than mine. His balls looked good. They tighter and rounder now, significantly bigger than mine, but they made his limp dick look relatively small in comparison. Covertly peering at my close friends’ genitals had caused the boner I’d just lost to roar back to life. Still oblivious to my state of wake, he wriggled painfully slowly into a pinot noir-hued straight-hemmed pique-knit 3 button spread-collar pullover, which had been tailored to fit his wings and had velcro and micro-snap buttoned openings for them. Then while standing, he pulled on the moss-green fleur de lis decorated boxer shorts he’d picked out. He was about to move on to his hair, and he was looking into the mirror fixed to the back of his wardrobe door, when I saw his left eye shift and move; bird eyes had spotted possible predator. A sharp cobalt-blue eye rotated 90 degrees in socket and stared at me; the head face that housed it unmoving. Another blue cobalt cast eye watch my reflection in the glass. “How long have you been there?” Warren’s voice echoed. “Just woke up,” I said, lying. “Oh,” he said. “I was a mess.” “Are you ok?” I asked, and he assumed I was talking about the hangover. “Yeah,” he said, “will be with some greasy breakfast in me.” I wasn’t talking about the hangover.</p><p>He carried on, combing then fixing his blonde hair and spritzing his big Adam’s apple with cologne. He stepped into a pair of indigo-colored midrise straight-fit tapered-leg jeans, and eggshell already tied Stan Smiths without socks. He gave himself 2 more hits of cologne, because he likes to bathe in it, then grabbed and put on his Clubmaster sunglasses. He stepped back, spread his wings a little and ruffled his feathers. They all stood up individually and fluffed, making the familiar noise, before neatly returning to place looking even more streamlined than before. He put slipped his slender leather cross grained wallet into his rear left pocket and dipped his keys into the front, reached for his backpack on the floor next to the base of his bed, and was out the door leaving me once again on my own.</p><p>By now I was horny beyond belief and my dick was so hard that it hurt. I felt like I’d just stepped off a roller-coaster. My penis had, in fact, been up and down so many times that dried pre cum was stuck all over the front of my boxer briefs and my tip was glued to the fabric. I pushed off all the covers onto the messy floor. I had all intentions of getting up until a wave of slothfulness hit me and I sunk back down staring at the rigid tent pole in my crispy y-front fly crotch.  A normal person might have pulled the soiled underwear from his dick and jerked off like a man, but I just lazily rolled over and plowed my stiff cock into the mattress like a missile reentering the atmosphere. I violated it missionary style while I buried my face in my pillow and imagined it was my friends’ golden fuzzed ass. I humped and humped until I dumped one of the biggest loads of cum I’d ever made right inside of my underwear pouch. It was titanic and had the hot consistency of thick custard. I felt simultaneously indecent and sexually gratified as I basked warm and flushed, high on the lingering aftershocks of my orgasm. Revolted by my cummy and filthy afterglow yet still incredibly aroused, I lay prone feeling the protein rich sogginess in my boxer briefs congeal around my still hard dick. My head lay cheek downward on the pillow, lips parted drooling a little, as I gaped to my right with a goofy and semi-retarded looking post-ejaculatory facial expression.</p><p>Then the door swung open and Warren hurriedly re-entered, our sight lines colliding. I was body down in rifle fire position; mostly naked except for the well-placed tiny and immoderately short seafoam-green boxer briefs that clung intimately tight across my butt and slung low, with a wide flat cream-colored band that lowly bounded my waist and accentuated my exposed hairless ass crack. I looked like I was waiting to be butt raped, posed like some sort of slightly pornographic and underage pinup model. Warren looked at me like he’d just opened the door on something deplorably obscene and tried valiantly not to express facially what was running through his head.</p><p>
  <em>“Oh God why didn’t I knock!”</em>
</p><p>“Sorry, forgot my phone!” he blurted out, and dashed across the floor to retrieve it fraught to get out of the room. Located, he stuffed it into his right back pocket and turned to beat an exit out the still open door when he paused. He snorted and his face grimaced in reaction to something unseen and a little shiver ran up his wings as they made the all too familiar ruffling sound. I was very familiar with his wing quakes and could tell that this had been an involuntary one. The nerve endings in his wings were far more sensitive than he would let on and they sometimes had their own organic reactions to unexpected stimuli when the feathers would stand up on end then lie back making that noise.  In this case he’d just smelled something sickly sweet. I knew what it was and could even could smell it myself as I lay body-planted to the bed, my underwear filled with coagulating semen. Pitifully, my eyes tracked back over my shoulder and broadcast a silent plea for him to ignore it and leave. He met my gaze and I could see that he immediately regretted it yet couldn’t avert and we both stared eyes to eyes like we were witnessing some horrible slow-motion catastrophe. His big blonde eyebrows rose and the flesh between them furrowed, as the poor guy desperately tried to maintain his facial composure, but the stare wouldn’t break and the words he was thinking flashed across his face like they were glowing in neon:</p><p>
  <em>“Jesus, it smells like cum in here!”</em>
</p><p>I was absolutely mortified and closed my eyes as he breezed past holding his breath and trying badly not to look at my airborne ass. The thought, no doubt, running though his mind of me grinding and seizing in orgasm as my fragrant batter spewed forth.</p><p>What followed were several painfully uncomfortable days.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Concepts pulled that aren't cannon  I found intriguing:<br/>* Diamondgore, "Burnished"  https://archiveofourown.org/users/diamondgore/pseuds/diamondgore<br/>* Kintsukuroi, "Angel : First Flight" https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kintsukuroi/pseuds/Kintsukuroi</p></blockquote></div></div>
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